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GIFT  OF 
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WITH 


PROM  WAT! 


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G.  HAMILTON  HAMMON 


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From.... 


With  kindest  thoughts 


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To  the  loving,  earnest  souls  who,  during  the  great  World- 
war  have  devoted  themselves  to  the  continuous  duties  of  pre 
paring  the  necessary  comforts  for  our  soldiers,  and  providing 
personal  assistance  and  relief  for  the  wounded  and  suffering 
heroes  in  the  Cause  of  Right,  and  Liberty  to  enjoy  our  Beautiful 
World  in  peace: — The  Workers  in  the  "Red  Cross" — this  little 

booklet  is  gratefully  dedicated. 

G.  H.  H. 

Coronado,  September  20th,  1917. 


Harmonies  and  Discords 


POETIZED  AND  ILLUSTRATED  BY 

G.  HAMILTON  HAMMON 


AUTHOR  OF 
'APPRECIATION  AND  APATHY" 

"PAIN  AND  GAIN" 
''NATURE  AND  JUSTICE" 


Price,  25  cents  or  1  shilling 


PUBLISHED  AND  COPYRIGHT  1917  by  G.  HAMILTON  HAMMON 
1106  Orange  Avenue 

Coronado 
SAN  DIBJGO,  CALIFORNIA,  U.  S.  A. 


SYDNEY  HEADS  AND  THE  BOAT 


From  a  watercolor 

by  the  Author 


THE  PHILOSOPHER  AND  THE  MERCHANT 

I  was  seated  in  Sydney's  gardens, 

when  a  stout  stylish  man  came  along. 

He  sat  still,  but  soon  broke  the  silence, 
impertinently  meriting  rebuff. 

"Why  are  you  not  at  the  barracks?"  he  asked, 
in  a  military  kind  of  way. 

I  answered  him  quite  politely, 

"On  several  counts — that  is  why." 

And  reckoning  up  straightaway  I  said, 
"First,  I'm  over  military  age." 

Next  I  informed  this  stout  old  gent, 
that  medically  I  would  not  pass. 

"Thirdly,"  I  said,  "I'm  a  married  man, 
with  a  wife  and  child  to  keep." 

"And  fourthly,  I'm  not  quite  ashamed  to  say, 
I'm  a  man  of  peace — not  war. 

Not  that  I  wouldn't  go  out  all  the  same 

with  the  "Red  Cross"  and  do  something  more, 

To  help  the  brave  souls  who  are  giving  their  lives, 
than  talking  and  arguing  here : 

But  a  man  who  cannot  do  fighting; 
with  a  body  by  practice  refined 

Can,  with  his  ability  conquer: 

he  can  learn  and  teach  mastery  of  self." 


3G9501 


"0  ho!"  said  the  man,  "there's  only  one  count 
that  would  hold  in  our  English  law: 

The  second  you  named;  but  if  that  you  passed, 
off  you'd  go  to  the  '  Front/  " 

"Yes,  maybe!"  I  said,  "But  listen! 

you're  a  much  bigger  man  than  myself: 

Why  I'm  sure  you  could  kill  quite  a  dozen 
while  I  would  be  getting  my  breath. 

You  seem  to  be  doing  just  nothing 

but  idling  your  time  around  here, 

While  I'm  here  for  rest  and  refreshment, 
after  rushing  about  town  all  day." 

"Oh  but  I'm  an  invalid,"  came  the  retort, 
"I've  tubercles  the  doctors  say; 

Why  I'm  fifty-four  years  of  age,  and  so, 
of  course  I'm  not  able  to  go; 

But  I'm  voting  of  course  for  Conscription: 
send  the  young  men  away,  I  say." 

"And  why  not  mature  men  as  well?"  I  rejoined; 
"up  to  forty,  if  boarding  and  free. 

They've  stamina,  caution;  with  power  to  endure: 
better  far  than  God's  brighter  hopes." 

"That's  sentiment  now  you're  talking,"  said  he; 
"as  for  God,  I've  not  found  Him  as  yet, 

There's  no  proof  at  all  beyond  what  we  see, 
for  it's  only  illusion — that's  sure." 


"Of  course  you  believe  in  Conscription,"  I  said, 
"and  the  more  men  we  send  the  better. 

You're  alright  and  safe,  and  know  that  you're  free: 
you  have  mind — no  illusion — and  sense; 

Of  a  truth  you  do  own  that  we  see:  we're  alive: 
we  construct  and  destroy;  do  we  not? 

We  delight  in  the  flowers,  and  hear  the  birds  sing, 
and  feel  a  joy  in  it  all. 

We  love  the  sweet  perfume  of  many  a  bloom, 
and  the  changing  of  countless  hues. 

Just  look  away  yonder — the  blue  of  the  sea, 
and  nearby  the  city's  high  domes; 

Do  you  mean  to  say  truthfully  you  do  not  feel 
the  union  of  God  and  man?" 

"Look  here,"  said  he  then,  "I'm  sorry  I  can't, 
but  what  I  enjoy  is  this: — 

The  peace  and  quiet  of  mountain  vale; 
the  bushland  and  twittering  birds." 

"Just  so:  that  proves  the  response  by  the  soul 
to  capacity  for  enjoying  God's  gifts. 

If  you've  read  much  of  history,  the  Bible  as  well, 
have  you  not  missed  the  lessons  they  teach? 

You  say  you  know  something  of  Romans, 
the  Chaldees,  Egyptians  and  Gauls; 

Does  not  history  prove  that  progression  of  man 
is  dependent  on  fear  of  a  God?" 


8 

"Well,  we  cannot  rely  on  our  history/7  quoth  he, 

"Alexandria's  books  were  all  burned." 
"Not  all  Sir;  why  thousands  were  saved"  I  replied, 

"and  valuable  truths  we  have  learned." 
I  had  quoted  from  "Ancient  Wisdom;" 

Evolution  of  course  was  my  "plank." 
Though  to  satisfy  him  I  could  prove  nought, 

on  the  subject  of  Spirit  and  such. 
"And  moreover,"  he  said,  "have  any  great  men 

ever  come  back  to  tell  us  of  these?" 
I  waited  awhile  and  puzzled  my  brain, 

then  I  asked  him  to  read  certain  works, 
And  mentioned  the  books  on  research  of  late  years, 

by  Wallace,  William  Crooks  and  Lodge. 
"Then  what  of  the  celebrated  musical  men 

who  have  given  the  world  of  their  best? 
These  souls  have  inspired,  and  still  shall  inspire 
those  of  talent  who  trust  in  their  power." 

"There  is  no  such  thing inspiration  indeed! 

It's  just  chance,  I  tell  you,"  he  said. 
"Why  are  men  not  inspired  now,  to  stop  this  great  war, 

with  its  suffering,  slaughter  and  waste?" 
"For  this  reason,  friend: — the  great  war's  to  teach 

what  other  means  fail  to  achieve. 
But  thousands  of  men  are  inspired  all  the  same, 

in  the  virtues  of  courage  and  zeal. 
It  is  bringing  out  love,  more  abundant  than  hate, 

and  charity,  patience  and  faith: 


And  as  much  of  the  suffering— to  us  seems  unjust, 
rest  assured  there's  God's  reasor  for  that." 

"What  I  say,"  he  answered,  "I  always  maintain; 

and  we're  fools  if  we  don't  <Jq  it  too.:  : 
We're  to  just  get  the  best  out  of  life  that  we  can, 

and  each  one  take  care  of  himself." 
"Then  if  that  were  the  case,"  I  thoughtfully  asked, 

"what  good  do  you  do  with  your  life?" 
"Well,  I  do  my  own  share,  I  open  my  purse, 

and  help  with  my  money,  you  see." 
"I  grant  that  is  something,  but  could  you  not  find 

some  use  for  the  knowledge  you  have? 
You  will  find,  too,  I'll  warrant,  as  soon  as  you  try 

that  the  effort  will  do  you  more  good. 
It  will  bring  you  in  contact  with  minds  that  may  prove 

the  Spirit-world  life  to  be  fact. 
Now  I  say;  will  you  tell  me  whence  comes  our  life's  breath 

do  you  think  that's  illusion  as  well?" 
He  turned  his  grey  head,  then  was  still  as  the  grave: 

he  refused  to  give  battle  to  that. 
"0  Well,"  I  said  cheerfully,  "all  of  us  should 

have  the  liberty  our  own  thoughts  suggest: 
And  it's  not  for  me,  you,  or  anyone  else, 

to  vaunt  our  opinions  at  all. 
Still,  this  we  may  do,  conscienciously  too, 

and  I  call  it  a  duty — don't  you? 
When  enquiry  just  hints,  we  should  open  our  hearts 

and  may  help  wondrous  well — if  we  will." 
"I  suppose  so:  that's  right:  and  now  I  must  go." 
And  we  then  wished  each  other  "Good-bye!" 


QUEENSTOWN  AND  THE  REMARKABLES 


From  a  watercolor 

by  the  Author 


BEAUTIFUL  MAORI-LAND 

In  the  country  we  love  and  are  proud  of  today, 

Nature's  glorious  beauties  unfold: 
Tis  the  Isle  of  the  Maori — an  ancient  race, 

Whose  warriors  were  noble  and  bold. 
And  home  of  the  Kiwi,  'mid  Toi-toi  and  Flax — 

Our  wonderful  Maori-land. 

From  the  lakes'  mossy  shores,  bright  with  verdure  green, 
Sparkling  streams  onward  flow  through  the  plains; 

This  could  be  the  Heaven  some  poets  have  seen — 
Land  of  mountains  and  bounteous  rains. 

Here  are  colors  for  artists;  inspiring;  grand, 
In  our  lovely  Maori-land. 

Then  we  ride  through  the  forests  of  fern-tree  and  pine, 
With  the  bellbirds'  and  tuis'  songs  sweet; 

Where  tall  Remu  mingles  with  red  Rata-vine, 
Where  glaciers  and  drifting  snows  meet. 

The  delight  of  the  tourist  from  far  o'er  the  world, 
Is  our  beautiful  Maori-land. 


In  the  North  for  volcanoes,  at  rest  or  display, 
New  Zealand  can  well  hold  its  own: 

Extensive  the  regions  where  waters  will  heal; 
Land  of  harbors,  fine  rivers  and  gold. 

And  noble  the  sons  who  have  fought  for  the  love 
Of  our  country  and  home — Maori-land. 


THE  SEA-SICK  VEGETARIAN 

0  sea,  thou  great  glorious  ocean  of  Blue, 
Ever  subject  to  winds  and  the  tides: 

For  how  many  years  have  I  watched  you  at  play, 

Thou  alluring  yet  treacherous  guide? 
For  oft-times  I  thought  you  would  deal  with  me  well 

When  I've  plunged  through  the  surf  without  fear, 
And  turned  my  head  sideways  in  making  for  shore; 

You  gave  me  a  clout  in  the  ear: 
And  deafened  me  nigh,  for  the  rest  of  the  day, 

Then  you'd  tumble  me  back  to  the  rear. 
Or  worse  still,  you  spun  me  around  like  a  top, 

And  battered  the  sand  in  both  ears. 
Yet  many  a  time  I've  enjoyed  a  good  dip, 

And  dived  through  the  waves  with  the  rest; 
Aye,  enjoyed  your  clear  breakers  just  like  any  fish, 

When  I've  swam  out  well  o'er  your  white  crests. 
But  for  all  that,  sometimes  I'd  be  caught  with  the  tow, 

In  that  beautiful  "  Fresh  water"  Bay, 
When  my  feet  couldn't  bottom  it,  scared  I'd  just  go, 

For  all  I  was  worth — my  own  way. 

1  remember  the  time  when  like  a  great  fiend, 
You  dragged  me  with  long  mighty  rush; 

When  a  stroke  or  two  more  would  have  taken  me  in; 
But  I  fought  and  got  out  of  your  clutch. 


13 

Yet  all  that  was  trifling  to  what  you're  at  now; 

Thou  relentless  and  pitiless  Deep. 
Why  for  eight  solid  days,  with  no  appetite  yet, 

I've  been  sick,  tortured,  rent,  and  dead  weak. 
It's  surprising: — the  "cures"  fast  coming  along  now: 

One  man  says  "brandy,"  another,  "soup." 
"The  most  certain  of  all  is  just  salts — several  kinds:" 

Sure,  they'll  all  have  their  chance,  except  soup. 
"  Why  stewardess,  what's  this  you're  bringing  me  now?" 
"Well,  to  tempt  you,  a  nice  bit  of  lamb." 
"Lamb!  but  good  soul .  .  .  don't  you  know  I'm  a  "veg?" 
"But  not  bound  are  you,  not  to  take  lamb?" 
"No,  of  course,  that's  alright,  but  my  principle  holds." 
"Take  a  mouthful  this  once  ...  for  a  test." 
"  For  a  mouthful,  why  dear  me,  it's  not  worth  my  while; 

And  I'd  lose  it  along  with  the  rest." 
Our  stewardess  really  is  wonderfully  kind; 

She  won't  even  wait  for  a  call; 
Though  if  I  could  do  justice  to  one-half  she  brings, 

Why  I  wouldn't  be  down  here  at  all. 
I  nibble  a  bit  here:  a  spoonful  or  two  there; 

And  I  certainly  can't  do  more, 
Till  I've  run  with  a  rush  where  I  know  there's  no  crush, 

Then  I  wait  for  my  bellows  to  roar. 
Now  this  waiting  business  I  dread  worst  of  all: 
First  it  will,  then  it  won't,  till  I  pour 


14 


A  tumbler's  contents  of  salt  sea  down  my  throat: 

If  I'm  lucky  there's  no  need  for  more. 
But  as  often  as  not  it's  a  failure — this  game: 

When  it  acts  I'm  left  panting  and  faint, 
And  staggering  along  round  the  cabins  again, 

I'm  good  for  an  hour — like  a  saint. 

Oh!  you  horrible  sea:  the  "Pacific" — you? 

Even  crossing  the  Line  where  we  dreamed  of  a  peace, 
You  pitch  your  great  swell  'neath  this  cork  of  a  boat; 

For  mercy's  sake — when  will  you  cease? 

0  I  must  have  by  now  paid  my  debts — nearly  all; 
And  the  fish,  they  have  done  really  well, 

For  all  I  have  eaten  of  their  finny  tribe, 

My  menu  has  been  quite  a  sell. 
"Good  sea-boat  this,"  a  friend  had  declared: 

"Much  better  than  others  of  fame." 
But  whether  we  get  in  a  worse  sea  or  not, 

I  don't  cross  this  "switchback"  again. 
Not  a  ship;  scarce  a  bird;  ne'er  a  dolphin  I  see: 

For  a  week  I've  been  curled  up  in  bed, 
Either  topsides  or  cabin,  I  hear  little  else 

Than  the  noises  which  rack  my  poor  head. 

1  was  happy  at  home  when  I  looked  at  the  waves 

From  the  cliffs  where  geraniums  grow, 


15 


Where  Manly's  white  beaches  give  pleasure  and  balm; 

But  this  sea  trip  is  deadly  and  slow. 
0  my!  ....  Surely  this  bout  must  be  quite  the  last; 

Or  when  will  it  stop — is  it  fair?  .... 
Well,  I've  patience:  I've  fasted  for  two  weeks  before, 

But  what  of  the  suffering  elsewhere? 
What  weakness  is  this:  how  small  to  endure 

When  I  think  of  the  agony  borne 
By  the  heroes — aye,  nurses  and  doctors  as  well, 

At  the  War:  and  fond  mothers  forlorn. 

I'm  reduced  to  the  babyhood  stage  once  again; 

Now  I'm  fed  up  on  gruel  and  pale  "B.," 
A  teetotaller  too,  by  the  way,  I  must  own: 

My  dreams  are  quite  dreadful  at  sea. 
There's  a  swish  and  a  swirl  at  my  cabin  port-hole; 

There's  the  man  peeling  "taters"  all  night; 
At  least  so  it  sounds  when  I've  nothing  to  do, 

But  listen  and  cuddle  up  tight. 
I'll  be  right  when  I  tread  on  Canadian  soil; 

For  a  purpose  I've  suffered,  that's  sure. 
When  I've  worked  out  my  sins,  my  unseen  faithful  guide 

May  not  take  me  to  sea  any  more. 

Composed  while  sick  for  13  days,  during  moderate   head  seas; 
otherwise  a  healthy  energetic  vegetarian  for  7  years. 

G.  H.  H. 
R.  M.  S.  Makura,  Nov.,  1916. 


THE  REALM  OF  THOUGHT 

A  thought,  even  if  it  finds  no  expression  in  an  act, 
often  affects  other  people:  its  influence  just  depends 
on  conditions.  The  best  intention  will  produce  no  vis 
ible  effect  as  a  rule,  unless  it  is  put  into  practice  by  the 
person  who  makes  the  intention;  but  this  act  of  the 
mind  may  find  expression  elsewhere.  For  instance, 
how  often  we  hear  at  a  banquet,  when  speeches  are 
going  the  round,  "Well  brothers,  I  find  that  the  senti 
ments  I  intended  to  express  have  been  taken  out  of  my 
mouth  by  one  of  the  previous  speakers/'  Intentions 
produce  mental  states  which  may  be  productive  of  good 
action  in  the  future. 

The  first  requirement  to  obtain  power  is  to  learn 
how  to  control  thought;  to  command  our  own  moods, 
and  allow  only  such  ideas  to  enter  the  mind  as  we 
choose  to  admit.  Can  you  hold  a  thought  for  three 
minutes,  excluding  all  other  intruding  subjects?  Here 
we  have  something  like  an  exercise  which,  if  experi 
mented  on,  and  diligently  practiced,  will  result  in  val 
uable  success.  We  all  need  to  concentrate  our  minds 
on  what  we  do,  and  through  the  lack  of  power  and  ap 
plication  in  this  function,  our  memories  often  fail  us. 
The  good  effect  of  this  quality  is  apparent  when  we 
have  arranged  new  places  for  our  papers,  etc.,  after 
putting  our  desk  or  table  in  order.  No  greater  blessing 
can  we  have  than  the  power  and  the  will  to  control 
thoughts,  and  dwell  only  on  the  good  and  useful  ones. 


OVER  THE  NEW  ZEALAND  ALPS 


RECOLLECTIONS   OF  TWO  HAPPY   TOUF/TSO'S 


It  was  seven  o'clock  the  morning  after  we  gained  the  west  side 
of  Otira,  when  we  were  surprised  and  delighted  by  seeing  the 
landscape  thickly  covered  with  snow.  A  "blizzard"  had  dis 
turbed  our  night's  sleep.  The  narrow  river  was  a  swollen  torrent. 
We  just  revelled  in  our  first  snow,  played  snowballs;  took  mouth- 
fuls;  fell  into  it;  and  after  a  solid  breakfast  cycled  away.  All  was 
now  calm,  silent,  and  to  us  strange  and  unknown.  Essaying  to 
cross  this  mountain-chain  with  food  for  one  meal,  a  change  of 
clothing,  and  portfolio  of  sketches,  was  a  real  joy  indeed.  Un 
bounded  was  our  admiration  and  enthusiasm,  when  the  magnifi 
cent  scenery  unfolded  as  we  pushed  our  bikes  up  the  steep  road. 
It  was  Christmas,  and  snow  was  unthought  of.  Our  rubber  shoes 
were  soaked,  and  feet  icy  cold  of  course:  but  what  matter  in  our 
happiness  alone  with  God's  sublime  harmonies. 

On  reaching  the  summit  our  only  visible  guides  were  the  tele 
graph  poles,  while  the  streams  increased.  Nearing  the  topmost 
cutting,  a  beautiful  peak  loomed  up,  enshrouded  by  a  snowy  gauze 
like  veil,  and  as  we  gazed  enraptured  by  its  grandeur,  our  very 
souls  were  thrilled,  for  the  stillness  was  broken  by  the  sweet  and 
exquisite  melody  of  a  little  bird.  Such  a  delightful  song  in  that 
snowy  scene  of  pure  beauty  was  as  pleasant  and  welcome  as  un 
expected.  Most  patiently  we  waited  till  it  was  repeated  by  the 
unseen  heavenly  messenger  of  good  cheer.  On  we  cycled,  and  O 
those  icy  streams  and  pebbles!  The  latter  lodged  in  my  shoes,  as 
I  carried  over  each  machine  and  then  my  wife.  One  stream  we 
rode  through  in  defiance,'  barely  escaping  a  "ducking"  as  we 
bumped  against  the  larger  pebbles. 

Later  on  a  caravan  met  us,  and  we  accepted  a  sip  of  something 
hot  from  a  flask:  we  were  getting  on  so  nicely  too — buoyant,  warm 
and  fit  for  scores  of  miles.  However,  we  thanked  the  giver, 
parted  with  good  feeling,  then  raced  along  again  in  fine  style — 
braced  up,  of  course,  and  yet  somehow  the  bracing  wasn't  any 
improvement.  Soon  the  descent  began,  past  majestic  peaks, 
waterfalls  and  precipitous  heights:  lovely  foliage,  ferns  of  many 
shades  with  young  rose-pink  fronds.  As  Bealey  River  hove  in 
sight,  the  exquisite  Otira  Gorge  and  Arthur's  Pass  faded  from 
view,  but  never  shall  we  forget  that  happy  day  when  we  cycled 
over  the  Southern  Alps. 


18 


SUNRISE  O'ER  THE  CANYON 


From  a  watercolor 

by  the  Author 


A  NORTH  CALIFORNIAN  IDYLL 

"0  Glorious  land — California  North, 
Of  charming  climes  and  fame  renowned: 

If  faithful  quite  to  high  repute, 
Thou  givest  me  surprise  enough." 

Here  'mid  yon  hills  of  soft  red  loam, 

Above  the  snowline  clear  and  crisp, 
Fantastic  icicles  abound, 

And  wondrous  frozen  vapour  clings. 
A  bracing  atmosphere  doth  change 

One's  moods  and  thoughts  on  common  things 
To  realms  within  etherian  blue: 

Those  heights  which  man  in  time  must  pierce. 

"And  now  the  sun  hath  long  been  set; 

Come!  read,  dear  wife;  I  would  hear  more, 
While  yet  the  eve  is  not  far  spent, 

Concerning  that  ennobling  law, 
Given  to  man  through  a  teacher  great." 

And  round  the  blazing  pine-log  fire, 
Two  minds  with  one  accord  comment 

On  elevating  passages:— 
*"  Man's  will  is  simply  liberty, 

To  will,  and  be,  and  do,  and  suffer: 


20 


Precisely  what  necessity 

The  will  of  God  imperative  makes, 
According  to  change  of  circumstance, 

In  every  conceivable  arising  case/' 
This  liberty  then,  of  man's  own  will, 

Is  the  embodiment  of  impotence; 
And  "Necessity" — that  doth  belong 

To  divine  and  perfect  will  of  God : 
It's  opposite;  so  the  embodiment 

Of  great  sublime  Omnipotence."* 

''Pause  here  awhile — no  need  for  haste: 

Our  spiritual  growth  must  needs  depend 
On  thought  applied  deliberate. 
Though  frequently  on  problems  dwell, 
We  lose  the  full  import  of  these, 

As  oft  with  knowledge  cram  the  brain 
Too  much  with  learning  premature. 

0,  should  we  not  be  thankful  then 
When  fate  decrees  companionship, 

To  aid  each  by  discussion  fair? 
Aye — that's  the  point: — true  Harmony." 
So  night  wears  on  in  peace  and  calm, 

Till  morning  breaks  and  slumbers  cease, 

*Paraphrased  from  "Liberty  and  Necessity,"   Vol.  4,  Page  17 . 
Revised  Esoterie,  by  H,  E.  Butler. 


21 


When  faintly  the  sound  of  familiar  bell, 

Mellowed  by  frosty  distance  calls 
The  Applegate  Fraternity. 

And  soon  the  peeping  sun  shines  through 
The  topmost  pines  o'er  canyon  deep: 

It's  winter  warmth  scarce  melts  the  ice 
That  lingers  on  the  chilly  stream. 

Yet  early  Spring  is  close  at  hand; 
And  ere  the  dawn  is  one  hour  past, 

The  landscape  is  exuberant 
With  budding  fManzanita  shrub 

And  willows  racing  to  be  first; 
Their  golden  stems  to  burst  in  leaf. 

The  Bluebird's  flight,  and  songster's  voice, 
All  aid  to  cheer  the  stranger  here. 

And  in  the  loving  souls  around, 

My  dear  old  autoharp  and  I 
Find  many  a  friend  of  truest  worth, 

For  harmony  tends  to  godliest  bliss. 
So  wings  the  time  and  still  we  stay, 

And  roam  and  read  and  learn  and  think; 
Studying  a  work  appropriate:— 

"The  Seven  Creative  Principles." 

^Spanish  word  for  Little  Apple — (the  seed  of  the  pink  flower.) 


22 


A  balmier  sunshine  none  could  wish: 

Few  boistrous  winds  mar  January's  days; 
Though  ere  the  next  month  is  well  gone, 

Tis  well  we  should  not  linger  here: 
Unless  perchance yet  God  knows  best; 

The  war  embrace  e'en  this  fair  land. 
Then,  "Fiend-supreme,"  of  all  Earth's  woes, 

Our  place  is  where  we  are  needed  most; 
Working,  diffusing  with  fullest  heart 

That  love  which  must  redeem  the  whole 
Of  agonized  humanity. 

"Hush!  for  the  dreaded  news  may  come, 
As  a  thunderclap,  and  rend  the  air, 

Some  morn  as  gazing  feverishly, 
O'er  headlines  black  with  its  import." 

Spirit  of  Peace,  0  give  this  Race 
Which  strives  for  freedom  unsurpast, 

Immunity  from  brutish  force, 
But  mightier  power  toward  Brotherhood." 


Applegate,  N.  Cal,  U.  S.  A., 
Feb.,  1917. 


ta 


By  G.  Hamilton  Hammon 

California  —  O  California  ! 

Thy  praises  oft  are  sung 
From  pine-clad  Kills  in  northern  climes 

With  Manzanita  blooming, 
Whose  pearly  blossoms  smiling, 

And  peeping  through  the  snow, 
Await  the  sunbeams  stealing 

O'er  the  canyon*  s  gloom, 
To  orange  groves  and  gardens,  . 

'Mid  nature's  colors  charming, 
And  landscape  rich  in  brilliant  hues 

Where  stately  palms  all  blend. 


California — Great  California! 

Thy  roads  we  race  along. 
And  view  Sierra's  snowy  heights ; 

Blue  lakes  with  waters  slumbering 
Below  the  avalanche  tumbling 

Its  mass  of  ice  and  snow, 
To  form  the  river  winding 

Along  to  sparkling  bay. 
Inland  away  through  ranches 

'Mid  Eucalyptus  fragrant: 
No  states  compare  with  this  fair  one, 

Beloved  of  them  all. 

California — Fair  California ! 

Thy  cities  stand  supreme, 
With  noble  halls,  majestic  schools, 

From  Golden  Gate  of  splendour 
To  beauteous  San  Diego, 

Thy  floral  homes  a  show. 
By  radiant  hills  and  valleys, 

Each  orchard  wondrous  fine. 
Where  luscious   fruits  they're   gathering, 

Nigh  mellow  crops  all  ripening; 
Old  Missions  loved  whose  bells  still  toll 

Complete  the  harmony. 

(OVER) 


California — Gay  California! 

Thy  climate  of  the  South, 
Through  Santa  Barbara's  flowering  vales, 

Los  Angeles,  Pasadena, 
Where  leafy  avenues  skelter, 

Nestling  \ieath  tKe  Range; 
And  sunny  breezes  balmy 

Doth  draw  from  North  and  Bast. 
Thy  children — happy  youngsters 

Compare  with  feathered  songsters, 
In  harmony  and  cheerful  play 

What  gladder  sight  to  see? 

California — Our  California 

The  world  to  thee  owes  much. 
Thy  products  of  the  soil  so  rich 

Are  wealth  to  feed  the  nations: 
Receive  their  approbation, 

For  in  the  years  to  come 
All  peoples  shall  remember 

America  and  Thee. 
And  oft  recall  the  picture 

Of  splendid  stalwart  soldiers 
Marching  along  with  perfect  stride 

To  battle  for  Liberty. 

Copyrighted  1918  by  G.  Hamilton  Hammon 


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